Beyond the Map
by MadameGiry25
Summary: Extended scenes from The Ghost Map. Now featuring: the extended opening of chapter 2
1. Chapter 1

I present unto you the bonus material for The Ghost Map!

This scene takes place during the first chapter. As I mentioned on my profile, I'm planning on trying a new narrative style when I revise and this is the first glimpse of it. I'll be weaving journal entries in with omniscient narratives.

This scene begins much the same way that it did in the original version but it will go farther to actually show what happened during the lecture. Hope you enjoy!

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_**From the personal diary of Doctor John Watson:**_

_It was a Friday much like any other in mid September, 1894. I had been called upon to give a lecture as part of a series to a group of medical students. My talk was to be on the Broad Street cholera epidemic and how it accelerated the more modern sewage alternatives. I arrived at the university fairly early in the day in order to listen to the other talks. I gave the pretense of being interested; in actuality, I dreaded my own lecture. _

_The students all sat in neat rows, pencils primed over paper in order to take precise notes, staring expectantly into space. Professors lined the room in straight backed chairs; indeed, they all had the appearance of royalty overseeing their kingdom. My eyes dropped to my notebook, feeling a tinge of red reaching my cheeks. I had always detested academic lectures as a young student. But my dislike of attending lectures was trumped by the simple fact that my fear of giving lectures was more prominent. _

_I sat next to a number of medical professionals, all lined up like meat on a butcher's rack. Their chairs rested on a low dais; a speaker's podium was the only barrier between the grown men and the students. A clock chimed from elsewhere in the building and one of the professors stood and made his way to the platform… _

Dr. Watson only listened distantly to the speech until a few words reached his ear and he stiffened: "Dr. John Watson, renowned medical man and biographer of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, the private detective." Applause exploded as he rose to his feet and found himself walking to the podium.

"Thank you, professor," he cordially intoned, turning to face the students. "Good afternoon." There was a dull murmur of greeting as the scholars shifted impatiently in their seats. "On Monday the 28th of August, 1854, a Mrs. Sarah Lewis unwittingly initiated one of the deadliest outbreaks of cholera in recent memory."

Watson's voice echoed throughout the gigantic hall, seeming to bounce off the walls and seep through the windowpanes to resonate in the garden outside.

"Within a single day, the death toll rose to more than seventy people; with people dying left and right, the disease seemed to be unstoppable. Until one man, determined to root out the source, set out on a mission that would change medical history forever. His name was Dr. John Snow."

The name of the renowned physician caused a slight stir of interest among the medical students; many of them were aware of his work in the field of anesthesia. Snow was known as something of a pioneer in his field, paving the way for safer and more efficient methods of operating. They said that his work had saved countless lives.

Watson carefully flipped over to the next page in his notes, his eyes traveling over a diary page that he had obtained specifically for this lecture. "On the 31st of August, a major outbreak of cholera struck the Soho district. Over the next three days, 127 people died. In the next week, three quarters of the residents had fled the area. By the 10th September, 500 people had died and the mortality rate was 12.8 percent in some parts of the city. By the end of the outbreak, approximately 616 people had died."

A young man in the front row glanced skeptically up at the doctor. His pencil hovered over his notebook thoughtfully for a long moment before it began to scribble away once more. Watson chose to ignore him.

"At this time, the dominant theory of disease was known as the miasma theory. As you all know, this theory stated that diseases such as cholera or the Black Death were caused by pollution or a noxious form of "bad air" as they called it. Although a form of the germ theory did exist, it was generally dismissed by the scientific and medical community."

One hand shot up and Watson nodded for the student, a dashing young man with clipped, blonde hair, to speak. "Dr. Watson, isn't it true that the germ theory was not referred to as such?"

Watson hesitated for a moment before nodding. "That is correct, my good sir." He was silent for a long moment, his eyes traveling up and down his page of notes, waiting to see if the young man would continue. When he remained silent but for a bout of silent laughter, Watson continued, shaking his head mentally in disapproval. He would allow the misbehavior to slide only this once.

"Snow was unaware of the means by which the disease was transmitted, but evidence led him to believe that it was not due to breathing foul air. Therefore, he decided to put this idea to the test and discover the true source of the disease. By talking to local residents, he identified the source of the outbreak as the public water pump on Broad Street. Although Snow's examination of the Broad Street pump water was not able to conclusively prove its danger, he was able to persuade the local council to disable the well pump by removing its handle."

The young man in the front shook his dark hair out of his eyes and raised his hand so that his solid fist efficiently slid through the air. "Excuse me, Dr. Watson, but didn't Snow himself admit that the epidemic was already in decline at the time the pump handle was removed? The evidence showed that the disease would have died out soon, even if the handle had remained on the pump."

Watson nodded. "That is correct, Mr…?"

"Land. The disease was being spread because Mrs. Sarah Lewis's baby had contracted cholera and his mother was putting the germ into the cesspool, which fed into the water from the pump. The death of the baby led Mrs. Lewis not being able to continue contaminating the well because the baby was no longer producing the germ."

Watson frowned. "You needn't make her sound so malicious, Mr. Land. Remember, she had no way of knowing that simply emptying her child's nappies into the cesspool provided the way for the bacteria to contaminate the water supply."

Another man got to his feet and crossed his arms doubtfully. "What conclusive proof is there that the cesspool was actually feeding the water from the pump? It all sounds a bit farfetched to me.

"And you are?" asked Watson, careful to keep his annoyance in check.

"Nathan Gold."

"Well, Mr. Gold -" Watson began.

"If the pump handle hadn't been removed, she had the power to start the epidemic completely anew because her husband had contracted the disease," pointed out another student, not looking the least bit ashamed for having interrupted the doctor. "Her child died around the time that the epidemic began to die out."

Nathan Gold raised an eyebrow. "So, you're saying that her husband contracted the disease because of her poisoning the well."

"There's no way to know," said Watson, the warning, sharp edge to his voice offering a warning to the students. "But I think that she would have been devastated, particularly because her actions did cause her husband to fall ill and eventually die."

"Her husband lasted much longer than the average cholera patient. And he suffered for the duration of his illness," said Mr. Land. "Is it not possible that she had something to do with that?"

"What exactly are you suggesting, Mr. Land?" asked Watson, a touch of irritation creeping into his voice. "That Mrs. Lewis was aware of her actions?"

"I don't see how she could have been entirely ignorant."

Watson bristled. "If you don't mind, Mr. Land, I would like to continue on with the lecture."

"But wouldn't it have been brilliant if she had known what she was doing?"

"Brilliant?" Watson couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "Would you care to elaborate on that point, Mr. Land?"

Mr. Land smiled and shook his head. "I apologize, Dr. Watson. Do continue."

_After that, I stared at Mr. Land for a long, long moment. My eyes met those of the strange looking boy and they locked. There was something there that I distinctly didn't like. But it was not something that I could put my finger on._

_I tried desperately to get the lecture back on track in my own mind. The way that the conversation had turned troubled me and I found myself unable to concentrate. I was eternally glad when I finally reached the end and was able to leave the university and the wretched lecture behind me._

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And there you have it! I knew that I wanted to have the lecture in the original but it never really worked out. Hopefully this turned out much better than my earlier attempts.

I can't say when the next update will be. I'm rewriting much of the story in this style so I hope to post maybe one or two more chapters of this before I post the sequel, just to get everyone used to the new style.

Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for the next extended scene!


	2. Chapter 2

**Welcome to the extended opening of Chapter 2! This time around, you'll see some of my research into cholera at this time period in an effort to set the moods for when the deaths begin.**

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"Jo lives – that is to say, Jo has not yet died – in a ruinous place known to the like of him by the name of Tom-all-Alone's. It is a black, dilapidated street, avoided by all decent people, where the crazy houses were seized upon, where their decay was far advanced, by some bold vagrants who after establishing their own possession took to letting them out in lodgings."

- Charles Dickens in Bleak House

_Imagine if every time you felt a minor upset stomach, you knew that there was an completely realistic reasonable chance that you would be dead in forty eight hours. Can you imagine living like that, with death hovering over your head, with every stomach pain a would-be herald of tragedy? _

_As terrifying as it might be to consider, this was how countless people lived their lives for generations. Plagues were simply a terrifying fact of life. They seemed unpreventable and there was nothing anyone could do other than wait them out. _

_Londoners had lived in fear before our story took place, naturally. Even now, we have not forgotten events such as Great Plague that shaped our history. Epidemics often create a kind of history from below: they can be world changing, but participants are almost inevitably ordinary folk, following establishments, not thinking for a single moment about how their actions will be recorded for posterity._

_In order to prepare for my lecture on the Broad Street epidemic, naturally, it was necessary to do a substantial amount of research. My discoveries were often quite disheartening as I learnt about those unfortunate enough to drink the water from the contaminated pump: the young Eley brothers, who routinely dispatched a bottle of Broad Street water to their aging mother, the young man visiting his chemist father who enjoyed a glass of pump water with his pudding, the tailor, known simply as Mr. G, who sent his wife to grab a pitcher of water from the pump outside his workplace. _

_When that chemist's son sat eating his pudding, he couldn't possibly have imagined that the details of his meal would be of any interest to anyone else in London, let alone citizens of any other decade. _

_Thus is the true sadness of the epidemic._

_And almost by necessity, if people like Mr. G or the chemist's son do recognize that they are living through historical crisis it is often too late. The primary way that ordinary people create this distinct genre of history is by dying._


End file.
